The Sound of One Hand Crushing
by Weiila
Summary: The revered commander of the Krimzon Guard would like to say a few words about his character and relationship to Jak. Approach with caution, because he's smiling a bit too much...


Author's note: _I know I'm probably opening a can of worms here, but I'm not trying to bash anyone. This is a character study._

_If you could make a fic where Erol being nice worked out well, I'll bow down and sweep the floor with my hair for you, but I haven't found anyone who's made it believable – yet. _

_Thanks to Jaygoose for betaing this thing, and the Torn-Ashelin fic. _

The Sound of One Hand Crushing

"May I…"

He paused for a moment, as if weighing how to best articulate himself. It was purely for show, of course.

"…express myself freely?"

In the silence that followed, even the light glinting off his shoulder guards seemed loud. When he shifted his weight to his other foot, the shine from the light bulb above ran over the metallic mask perched atop his head, bearing down on the strands of sharp orange and red hair.

He seemed to decide that the silence was an approval.

"Thank you."

He held on to the words, speaking them slowly, almost a drawl. In a liquid motion he turned and took a step towards what had been his left. Then another.

Hands easily resting against the small of his back as he paced, looking ahead all the while.

"I find these odd little… ideas scattered here and there. Now, I admit it is quite flattering in some cases."

A faint smile appeared, as if he was toying with some amusing memory.

It was the smile that a snake might use, when spotting a dozing mouse. A mouse dozing in a small hole from which it will be unable to escape.

And then it was gone. He kept pacing, but the hands left their resting place. One came up to wave dismissively at the air as he continued to speak.

"Others, however, are as puzzling as they are, shall we say, _annoying_."

He stopped, turning his head in the direction he had been facing when he started. The smile returned, but this time the snake had spotted the fluffy bundle of baby mice napping behind their mommy.

"Perhaps I need to clear a few things up."

His steps were light, and still the slap of boots against floor echoed in the silence. He was turning around, retracing his steps from earlier. Still he kept his eyes glued to that spot that had first caught his interest, somewhere in outside of the ring of light.

"I assume that I may disregard all political etiquette."

He shook his head lightly, the smile becoming amused for a moment. It seemed like the final two words weren't meant to be taken seriously in his opinion.

"The Krimzon Guard are the bullies of your childhood. The differences are that the KG are armed, and there is no teacher or parent to run crying to. We have no time nor interest in respecting the weak."

His gaze narrowed at the last word, focusing on that unseen point. The faintest curl of his lip made it clear whom he thought was weak.

"As the commander of the KG, it is of the outmost importance that my underlings respect me. There is no room for fooling around."

He stopped walking.

"Fear drives them onwards. They fear their commander more than their enemies."

He turned fully around.

"They have reasons to fear me. Good reasons."

The snake was nearing its prey now. The mice stirred, instincts telling them that they were in danger. But they were still unconscious.

"Perhaps I do not need to dwell on why. I find the next subject a lot more endearing."

He pursed his mouth for a moment, thinking for another moment. The smile when it returned was thoughtful, taking his gaze to a distant point. He seemed to drag it out for longer than necessary, like he enjoyed the sensation of the subject forming in his mind.

But when he started speaking again, there was no smile. He frowned, fingers rapping against his hip.

"These annoying things I have found, they seem to miss a point I have been trying to make very clear."

The grim determination evaporated as quickly as it came, and his eyelids lowered just a little bit.

The mice had started to wake up, but the snake had already blocked the only exit with its own body. It was taking its time studying its prey, after having worked on getting the leisure of picking out the meal.

"I have a…"

He chuckled softly.

"… sort of emotional attachment, a certain interest for that kid they call a hero."

The light played with his yellow irises as he looked up.

"Jak, of course."

The snake no longer smiled when it lashed out and sunk its teeth into a small, warm body.

"That's where those things go wrong."

He started to pace again.

"I have made it clear, I even said it to his face, that I 'want' him. There seems to be some misconceptions about what I meant with that, however."

A fading squeak rose from the mouse as the poison raced through its twitching form.

"I have no reason not to admit it; I detest losing. And when I look at Jak, I see something that I have not yet been victorious in defeating."

He turned around. The only sound left was his voice, hanging in the neutral air like heavy smoke.

"In the prison, he continuously resisted everything done to him, and he was of course beaten for it. However, he never broke. Every time he was driven into unconsciousness, screaming in agony…"

He paused again, savoring the words before the frown returned upon the next ones.

"…he got back on his feet."

Looking ahead, the smile began to return.

"That is what I mean with 'wanting' him. I have yet to crush him. I want to see him torn apart and left sprawled on the floor, only enough breath left in him to sob."

He smiled.

"Ah yes, I cannot quite imagine him crying either. That is why I want to see it. I want him brought down into a pathetic little whine. I want to make sure that he never manages to recover."

A new frown, he was back in the same spot where he had started.

"And still I find these misconceptions. I have made it clear that I am quite obsessed with him. I do not like him in any way. What I adore is the idea of destroying him."

He crossed his arms, the smile stretching across his face.

"And the idea that he would get any sort of enjoyment out of it makes me feel sick to the stomach."

The mice stopped twitching.

"Thank you."


End file.
